Bedtime Drama: There’s No Use Crying Over Spilled Milk…Even If It Has Been Thrown at You by an Angry Baby

Last night I made pulled pork for the first time.  What a deliciously messy dinner that was!  I had bought one of those seasoning packets to cook it in but didn’t have any of the required ingredients on hand so there was really no point.  I put a pork shoulder in my new crock pot and substituted cocoa powder for brown sugar and balsamic vinegar for cider vinegar.  I had ketchup so that worked.  It didn’t seem overly liquidy so I added some coffee I had just made.  It turned out really well!  I will definitely make it again.  The babies enjoyed it too.  You can tell by the remnants I am still cleaning off of the walls and floor tiles in the kitchen.

It was a beautiful spring day yesterday so we had enjoyed a lovely 2 hour walk around the neighbourhood in the afternoon.  After getting groceries in the morning, we had stopped at a gas station on the way home so I could fill the stroller tires.  11 month old Mr. C is afraid of loud noises.  He freaks at the sound of the Baby Bullet when I make our smoothies in the morning, the food processor, the hand mixer and his fear of loud noises is the perfect excuse to rarely touch the vacuum cleaner.  I knew he would have a fit at the sound of the air pump so I cranked the “tunes” in the car before I got the stroller out.  We caused a few heads to turn as I pulled the stroller up to the air pump and started filling the tires as “Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree” blasted from my car stereo.  Let’s just say that me stopping to instagram how ridiculous the stroller looked while hooked up to the air pump was probably the least embarrassing part of this entire experience.  Needless to say, the stroller practically pushed itself with full tires.  I am never letting them get that low again.  And, after a 2 hour walk and a big dinner, the babies were exhausted, covered in pulled pork and ready for bed.

I stripped them down to their diapers and up we went to a nice, warm bubble bath.  The sudsy water was soon littered with bits of pork, corn and other bits and pieces of food as I scrubbed their little bodies clean.  They were both crying from exhaustion.  Not even their million bath toys would keep them occupied for the rest of the bath.  As I rinsed 22 month old Miss M’s hair, something caught my eye under the suds.  Poop.  Again.  We have another floater!  I quickly evacuated both babies from the tub, pulling them out of the water, one under each arm at the same time.  I sat Mr. C on a towel on the floor and kicked the door shut.  I grabbed Miss M before she could escape and sat her on her potty hoping that she wasn’t finished and could actually see what the potty is for.  She sat on the potty sliding back and forth on the seat because she was still soaking wet.  Nothing.  I tried to encourage her to go poo and explained that that’s what the potty was for.  She stared at me blankly.  She was done.  There was not going to be any potty action today.  There’s something about a warm bath that just relaxes that little girl’s bowels.  I drained the bath tub water and pulled all of the freshly sanitized bath toys out of the water to be cleaned again.  I left them in a rinse jug on the bathroom floor while the water drained to deal with later.

I scooped up Mr. C, threw a hooded towel on Miss M and followed her out of the bathroom.  Before I did anything else, I diapered her to prevent any other messes.  Mr. C started crawling across the floor completely naked.  He is finally crawling “properly” on his hands and knees so I let him go.  Up until recently he has done this cute little trench crawl where he pulls his body across the floor on his elbows.  We have hardwood floors.  The little man trying to do this completely naked is concerning.  It can’t feel good on his business and I really don’t ever want to be trying to get a splinter out of anything down there.  Hands and knees crawling is much better!

Once Miss M was diapered and in her pajamas, I scooped up my little “puppy” (Mr. C crawls around happily and always has his tongue hanging out of his mouth) and got him into his diaper and sleeper.  I am trying to transition him from bottle to sippy cup so I had a sippy cup of formula for him to drink before bed instead of a bottle.  I covered him in his fleece blanket and sat down to rock him like I always do.  Miss M saw us sit down and started swaying back and forth as she walked in a circle singing “Baaaaby” knowing that we always sing her little brother “Baby Beluga.”  Mr. C was restless wanting his bottle.  I offered him the sippy cup.  He put his mouth on it and then looked up at me and screamed.  He got so mad that his little hands formed fists and he started shaking.  I tried offering him the cup again and again.  He would bat it away with his hands.

I thought that maybe he was too tired and didn’t want it so I picked him up and put him in his crib.  He settled down and stopped crying when I covered him with his blanket.  Miss M was starting to cry because she was exhausted so I had to get her tucked in as well.  When I tried to offer him the sippy cup in his crib, he sat right up and started screaming in protest.  Miss M and I said goodnight.  I said “Good night and sweet dreams, little man!”  She waved and said “Bye!” then blew him a kiss.  He was standing up holding on to the side of the crib as I pulled his door closed.  I figured he would settle or that I would go back in once Miss M was in bed.

I rocked Miss M in her room and read her a story.  We read a “new to us” book tonight and she really enjoyed it, in spite of her little brother screaming and carrying on across the hall.  When we finished the last page, she exclaimed “Beee!” her word for her blanket, wanting to make sure she was taking it to bed with her from the chair.  Once she had it stuffed under her arm she said “Cuh!” making sure she had her cup of milk.  She is very particular about always having her blanket and cup with her as she leaves a room and everywhere we go.  I lifted her into her crib and kissed her goodnight.  She started to cry and reached her arms out for me to pick her back up which always breaks my heart.  I gave her one more hug and kiss then left and pulled her door shut.  I stood in the hallway listening to Miss M cry and Mr. C still throwing a complete fit 10 minutes later.  I took a deep breath to calm my nerves (it had been a very long day) and then opened his door.  There he was standing up holding on to the side of his crib, rocking his body back and forth, stomping his feet, red cheeked, snotty nosed and screaming.  He had stomped so hard that he had managed to unsnap the legs of his sleeper and his chubby little legs were sticking out.  I picked him up and in less than a second, he settled down.  It was as if I had found the “off” switch.  I reached in his crib for his blanket.  As I did, he started screaming thinking I was putting him back in and he koala bear-clung to me so hard that his little finger nails dug into my neck.  I stood straight up with blanket and sippy cup in hand and sat down to rock him again.  He calmed down.  He always has a bottle right before bed so he must be hungry.  I tried to offer him the sippy cup.  He angrily pushed it away with both of his hands, pouting his lips.  I sang to him and tried offering it again.  He refused.

It had been a long day and I didn’t have any fight left in me so I decided to give him the bottle he is used to drinking from before bed…if I could find it.  We only have one bottle that looks and feels like a boob.  It was the only one that would work on him when he transitioned from breastfeeding and it is his favourite.  It has two cracks in the sides of the nipple so the lid comes off if it when it is dropped but I refuse to replace it because he is almost a year old and needs to start drinking from a cup.  I looked all over the living room and play area then found it rolled under the couch.  With Mr. C in tow, I dumped it, washed it and rinsed it and headed back up to his room to fill it with the formula in his sippy cup.  I sat him down in the recliner in his room to free up a hand to unscrew the cup and pour it.  He clenched his fists and started rocking in anger to the point that if I didn’t have the reflexes of a cat, I wouldn’t have caught him as he threw himself off of the chair.  Once he was in my arms with his bottle, he happily drank from it and offered me a big smile and through his still teary eyes said “Hi!”  “Hi!” was not really the word I had in mind.  I had several one syllable words in mind but “Hi!” was not one of them.  I took a deep breath and said “Hi!” back to him.  What a particular little guy.  He is the sweetest, smartest baby boy in the whole world but he is also the most particular, stubborn and relentless little man.  He doesn’t give up.  And when he doesn’t get his own way, he gets angry.  He clenches his fist and grinds his teeth.  One of his brand, new front teeth up top have a chip in them.  I’m convinced it is from him grinding them in anger.  When he is playing with a toy and Miss M swoops in and grabs it from his grip, his fists clench, his teeth grind and he kicks his legs and screams.  It is crazy.  I don’t know if there is something wrong or not.  On a positive note, he can hold his own.  A lot of times when Miss M tries to push him around, he defends himself, screaming at her and she backs down and gives that toy right back to him to get him to stop.

As he laid in my arms with sleepy eyes, I slowly lifted him up, still rocking him.  He held onto his bottle and his eyes started to close.  As I started to slowly lower him into his crib, his eyes shot open and he threw the bottle.  It missed my shoulder and crashed on the floor, the lid flying off and formula spraying everywhere; all over me, all down the side of his crib and all over the floor.  He was extremely upset that I was putting him to bed.  I carefully calmed myself and put him in his crib.  He shot up on his feet, stomping and screaming as I grabbed receiving blankets to mop up the spilled formula.  I picked up the bottle, went down to the disgustingly messy, upside down kitchen and started all over, making him a bottle.  I brought the bottle back up to his room, laid him down, tried to cover him with his blanket as he hysterically screamed and kicked them off.  I sat the bottle beside him so he could drink it when he calmed down.  I kissed him goodnight, told him it was bedtime and closed the door as he stood up again stomping and wailing.  Miss M had fallen asleep.  I didn’t want him to wake her up but my nerves were shot and I needed a break.  It had been a very long day with no breaks and no help.  I needed to regroup.  I came downstairs and decided to pour myself a cup of tea (Translation: wine) and ignore the kitchen mess for now.  I watched the clock and figured if he was still carrying on in 5 minutes I would go back up.  Four minutes later, he was quiet and asleep.  He is strong-willed to say the least.  I feel bad for letting him cry but he was exhausted and so was I.  It was in both of our best interests for me to walk away.  I could feel my blood boiling with stress.

I sat and relaxed for a little bit in the sweet bliss of silence.  When my husband came home from work, he offered to clean up the kitchen mess for me.  What an incredible treat!  I had been dreading dealing with that disaster.  I decided to go upstairs and have a hot shower before bed.  My legs were sticky from the formula that had been thrown at me and I knew a long, hot shower would go a long way.  I walked into the bathroom and turned the bathtub tap on.  I looked down and burst out laughing hysterically.  My husband ran from the kitchen wondering what was so funny.  I called him up to the bathroom.  “Look at this!” I said, pointing to the drain.  “What?” he replied as he ran up the stairs.  Then he looked down to see the squished up bath time poop caught in the drain that I had forgotten about.  If you don’t laugh, you will cry… or maybe I’ve gone insane.

andbabymakes3imean4 is one mom’s adventures while tap dancing on the brink of insanity with 2 babies, 11 months apart.  If you liked this post, please subscribe to my blog or like my page on facebook to be the first to know of future posts.  Thanks for reading! xo

2 thoughts on “Bedtime Drama: There’s No Use Crying Over Spilled Milk…Even If It Has Been Thrown at You by an Angry Baby

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